The Seer of Telarim
by MindxMachine
Summary: A rather short depiction of a meeting with the Seer of Telarim. Calaraan, an Elven Arbiter, seeks the knowledge and wisdom of a mystic Oracle.


- Author Notes

So. I know this starts out at a random point.

This chapter's been uploaded for the purpose of generating positive feed back and constructive criticism. If you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say it at all.

With that being said, feel free to leave your commentary! I hope you enjoy this mild exploration into my mind. I hope you all enjoy it!

"Silence!"

The rasped shout barked out into the air, piercing the silence that had loomed over the grand chamber like a veil, slicing through the fabric of it with wicked, vicious ease. Slowly, the sound of rustling cloth could be heard, as a solemn figure slowly rose within the darkened gloom of the vast enclosure, shifting slowly along the expanse of the bed at the far end, pushing the translucent fabric aside to slowly unveil itself. The gaze of the being settled upon the intruder, who stood within the threshold of the entryway leading in, those piercing optics settling heavily upon his armored figure. It was a stare that seemed to penetrate his very core, and slowly shake loose the very foundations of his sanity, as the pervasive presence could be felt, slowly piercing through the defenses erected around his psyche. It was everything he could do to hold himself still, to maintain his own resolve despite the vicious invasion upon the very inner sanctum of his mind.

"Mmmm. . ."

The voice in itself yielded a soft, tender quality, feminine in its existence, as the words continued to flow slowly from betwixt those tender tiers, the delicate petals of that soft mouth slowly mouthing the words that she threatened to speak. The Oracle could only smile at the sight of the arbiter, as those piercing optics of sapphire settled slowly upon his own crystalline orbs. It was almost an inviting smile, one that with its sheer beauty would hypnotize any caught within its power.

"Your aura. . . I can feel it permeating from you, Arbiter. Such delightful. . . energies. . ."

Her voice in itself could send any mortal into a distracting revelry, and then they would be in her grasp. However, the Arbiter was well aware of the magic within her, well aware that with a simple, paralytic glance, he would be helpless to defend himself from her onslaught. A dangerous creature, the Oracle was. However, she was a being held in such high regard by all in Telarim. Some believed she was a descendant of a line of prophets that once followed the path of light. Others believe her to be creature of demonic origin. To consult her, for some within the Order, was considered an act of heresy against the Fates. Slowly, her servant, still shaken by the sudden nature of that barked order shifted in his placement to turn his gaze towards the Mystic. It was evident fear that seemed to grip the frail human, as he slowly lowered his gaze.

"Skral, you may excuse yourself. I wish to speak privately with the Arbiter."

With a quick nod, the elder servant shuffled from his position, a venomous expression twisting across his features, as his gaze slowly settled upon the visage of the Prince. It was obvious that Skral had no desire to leave his mistress in the company of Calaraan, however he was bound to her command, and could do nothing more than obey, or suffer worse punishment at her hand. As soon as he had vanished from within, the Oracle permitted the Arbiter further entry. Slowly, the elf pushed inward, the doorway closing shut behind him. It was then that the familiar command, one that had escaped his lips on so many occasions, erupted in the darkness.

_B'jarta!_

It was a slow eruption that took form at a gradual pace, first a small expanse that exploded to set the entire room ablaze with the warmth of that visible glow. The illumination settled within the room, and no shadow was spared quarter, as the luminscent magic expanded to cover every single inch. Calaraan could only lift his hand to shield his eyes. However, no surprise had taken form on his features. She was a Mystic, it was only expected that she would have an intricate knowledge of the Idiom Arcani. Perhaps even moreso than Calaraan himself, or any mage he had ever had the pleasure or displeasure of crossing paths with. However, his attention did not immediately fall to her.

As the inner sanctum of the chambers became visible, the permeating darkness within speared and ripped assunder, his gaze shifted along the interior of that vast enclosure. The level of decoration within seemed to venerate the very presence of the beautiful Oracle, the finest of furniture lining the walls. A bureau comprised of pure oak settled against the wall to the right of the entry. Upon it was an ornately decorated mirror, settled into a gleaming golden frame, the surface polished and untainted, the reflective surface pure and fluid, the surface unmarred by any scratches or smudges. To the far right, was a small section, decorated with two chairs, carved of the same oak material used for the rest, the surface polished and glistening within the vibrantly lit room. Between the two seats sat a small table, with a small tray rested atop. A plush rug settled in the expanse of wooden flooring between himself and the Seer, and at the far end is where she settled.

Atop linens comprised purely of the finest silk, that vast bed settled into place upon a wooden platform, etchings and designs carved into the hard wooden surface. Draping from the top of frame that had been attached to the platform, were curtains of fabric used to prevent the allowance of obscure light that might disturb one's slumber. However, these curtains were drawn aside to give light to the haunting visage with those eyes, those eyes that penetrated to his very soul. It was evident that she studied him, and in this, he felt a state of discomfort. He could feel her, probing his mind, poking and pilfering at his thoughts and battering any defenses that had been put into play to prevent such a thing. No matter how hard he tried, he could not hold her at bay. That smile, though it might have seemed gentle and warm, unnerved him and sent a shiver streaking through his very essence. Never had one managed to leave the Arbiter as unsettled as this one, and it drove him mad, as she so calmly did.

"So, you seek my advice. One in your position would be considered a heretic for such an act."

"As I am sure you have discerned, Seer, I am no longer in a position to have concern for what my colleagues believe."

That smile slowly faded, however hints of its haunting, unsettling presence remained alight upon the features of the Oracle, as that gaze lifted to settle upon him. It was an expression of curiosity. She wished to study him, to know more of the Elf.

"I seek your counsel, as there is no other choice in the matter."

"I am aware, but what makes you think that I shall give you such a thing? My words are reserved for those of destiny. Tell me, are you a man of destiny, young Prince?"

A scoff erupted from between the lips of the Arbiter, as his hand moved to rest upon the pommel of Durendahl. He had heard that the Oracle was one that would not so easily divulge her secrets. While the premonitions that came to her were the most accurate, and her divinations were top knotch, it was also evident that her help came at a steep price. Irritation lined the angular features of the Prince, and slowly, those gloved digits tightened momentarily upon the pommel of one of the blades strapped to his belt, the creak of leather amplified loudly by the silence filling the room until relief was given to his grip. Slowly, the elf turned his gaze away, to avert his eyes to the floor.

"If there is a price, I am more than willing to pay it. What do you want?"

"Hm. . . Is this truly the path you would like to take?"

"Name your price, Mystic."

"My my, young prince. Assertive, you are. Ask your question, and I shall give you counsel. However, be aware. The price of future knowledge is steep. It may cost more than you are willing to give."

It was a haunting statement, one that left the elf in a state of doubt for a moment. Could she really interfere with the bitter pills of fate, and take what it was that she wanted no matter the effect?

"More? What is your cost, Oracle?"

"Some of your essence. . ."

Slowly, the mystic shifted to rest upon her knees, thighs spread slowly apart. Locks of ebony cascaded around the placid features of the round, tender face of the beauty, those eyes slanted just so. Optics of vivid crystalline penetrated from where they rested upon her face, and ascending from the center of her brow upward were a series of gleaming gemstones, yielding a crimson hue that contrasted delightfully against both the alabastar flesh, and the long, ebony locks of hair. Her small mouth curved upward into a broad smile as she felt his eyes inspecting her features, her head slowly tilting to the side as she regarded him with the same curiosity that he had shown to her. Along the supple form of the beauty, a simple robe draped from her shoulders, the thin fabric resting delightfully in place to caress every dip and curve that slender body possessed. The pale ivory flesh of the chest of the beauty was left on full display, the fabric settling over the supple breast to hide away the parts that would be considered inappropriate in their revelation. Her body shifted forward to rest upon her hands, the supple posterior lifting from atop her thighs as she peered on, curiously into the features of the Arbiter.

"Tell me, Arbiter. Do you accept?"

Well, there it is! A simple prelude to an epic tale, still as of yet in the works!

Hope you folks enjoy the read! It's highly possible that more will come your way.

Thanks for reading!


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